A week ago last Friday I was walking my little dog Kirby just after 5 PM. A big, off-leash dog attacked Kirby. I screamed as the aggressor shook my gentle 12 pound dog. The dog’s owner pulled the animal off Kirby. Kirby could walk so the owner of the dog named Fletcher determined my pup was OK. I was so shaken I just wanted to get home. Kirby was not OK. His neck wound had to be stitched with 5 staples.
Three days later I came down with the flu. Kirby was pretty content that I was in bed with him where I could administer adequate nursing care. My 17-year-old cat, Lucy, was happy to share our quarters, although on her own terms. The right side of the bed for feline occupancy only–Kirby could have the left.
I am recovering nicely. My voice is nearly a voice again and Kirby is just fine–staples will come out next week.
While I have been off my feet, I have been reading. I have read 6 Agatha Christie novels, my favorites feature Hercule Poirot. I have not read the newspaper or checked my email or gone on Facebook. Home for the holidays, my sweet daughters and their dad and Luca have kept me comfortable.
Unexpected ending for an odd year.
Amongst the dramas, our family delights in its youngest member. Baby William’s laughs and giggles as he explores this new world that comes with edges to conquer has made me a believer all over again.
Happy New Year! May you be well. May you laugh.
PS From Kirby — may you always keep your big dogs (named Fletcher) leashed!